Life in Miller was as routine as clockwork. School from eight to three. Helping Aunt Fagey at her quaint little ice cream shop on Main Street. Or spending long, dragging hours cooped up at home, buried in homework or scrolling endlessly through my phone.
If not for that routine, I would have never noticed them—the strange, round red stones embedded into the brick walls. Always near something mundane. Next to the fire extinguisher at school. Behind the counter at the gas station. Near the entrance of the town library. Always there... hiding in plain sight.
But nobody else noticed. Nobody cared.
Miller was peaceful—painfully so. It was technically a town but bustled just enough to pretend it was a city. Boring, predictable, and safe.
Until it wasn't.
You see, Miller had a history. The kind of history most people laughed off as urban legend. Dig deep enough online, beyond the conspiracy blogs and badly edited YouTube videos, and you'd find it.
The town was supposedly built on ground tied to something... strange. Old whispers spoke of creatures. Monsters. Beings that no human had ever cataloged—or survived long enough to describe.
Of course, everyone scoffed. "Lunatic scientists made all that up," they'd say. And honestly... it was true. Some deranged researcher back in the 60s claimed to have found evidence—classified files, bone fragments, blurry photos of eyes that glowed like molten gold. He was dismissed. Declared unstable. Locked up.
Nobody believed him.
So nobody cared.
But then... the weirdness began creeping in. Slowly at first. People vanishing. Sometimes whole families. No explanations. No goodbyes. Just... gone.
And those red stones? They started showing up everywhere. Quietly. No announcements. No construction. Just there.
We were told—no, ordered—to ignore it. "Just government stuff," they said. "A project. Nothing to worry about."
Nothing to worry about... Right. Because government projects always involve people disappearing off the face of the earth.
But what could I do? I was seventeen. Just a kid with no power, no answers.
°°°°°°
"Whoo! That's a big one!" Dad's voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. He wrestled with his fishing rod, arms tensed, the line pulled taut like it was hooked to something the size of a small car. His brown hair stuck out messily beneath his old fisherman's hat, green eyes squinting against the afternoon sun.
"Come on, Esther! Help your old man out, will ya?" he grinned.
I laughed, setting down my own rod. "Alright, alright," I said, moving closer. I grabbed the line above the reel, bracing my feet against the edge of the wooden dock.
Man, this thing's heavy.
Together we pulled, muscles straining. The water below churned and bubbled.
Then—something grabbed me.
A hand. Cold. Desperate. Fingers like iron clamps locked around my wrist.
"Dad—!"
Before I could even scream, I was yanked off my feet and dragged into the water. The world flipped. Sky became water. Air became suffocating liquid. I barely had time to gasp before everything turned blue, then black.
"ESTHER!" Dad's voice echoed, muffled by the water.
I kicked wildly, thrashing. But the hand wasn't pulling me down—it was holding on, like someone clinging for dear life.
The water was too murky to see. Shadows swirled. My lungs screamed.
Then another hand grabbed me—Dad's strong grip. He dove straight in after me. I felt him trying to pull me back, but the weight on my arm wouldn't budge.
I wouldn't let go. Whoever was down here—whatever was down here—they were holding on because they didn't want to die.
With a final heave, Dad pulled both of us toward the surface. Air exploded into my lungs as we broke through, coughing, gasping, blinking against the sunlight.
"Esther! Are you okay?!" Dad shouted, gripping my shoulders.
I coughed hard, nodding, and then pointed weakly. "There… Someone… someone's there…"
Dad spun toward the water.
A girl. A blonde girl, drenched and trembling, clung to the edge of the dock. Her soaked jeans clung to her legs. A pink crop top stuck to her skin like a second layer. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
She looked terrified—like she'd seen something worse than death.
Dad rushed over, hauling her up from the water. "Are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?" he asked, already fumbling for his phone.
But she didn't answer. Her eyes—wide, wild—stared at her shaking hands like she didn't recognize them. Then slowly, she looked up at us.
"T-They're coming..." Her voice cracked.
Dad and I exchanged a glance. "Who? Are you hurt? Are you being chased?" Dad asked, looking over his shoulder as if expecting someone to burst out of the trees.
She shook her head violently. "No… No!Them. The ones with the gold eyes. They're coming. F-For everybody… for the whole town—!"
Panic flared in my chest. "What are you talking about? Who's coming?"
But before she could answer, the sound of engines roared from behind us—gravel crunching under tires.
Three black SUVs. Sleek. Window-tinted. Government-grade.
They screeched to a halt like a coordinated SWAT maneuver. Four—no, six—men in black suits poured out. Their faces unreadable. No badges. No insignias.
"Step aside." One of them pointed directly at the girl. "We're here for her."
"Wait, what? Who are you—?!" Dad started, but the man cut him off.
"Whatever you saw here... you didn't. Understood?" His tone wasn't a question. It was a threat wrapped in polite words.
Two others grabbed the girl by both arms, dragging her toward one of the cars.
She screamed, fighting. "No! Listen to me! They're coming! Believe me! You have to run—"
Her voice was drowned out as they shoved her into the backseat.
"Save yourselves! They're coming for Everybody!" she shrieked, kicking as the door slammed shut.
Without another word, the three black cars reversed in perfect sync, tires spinning, and disappeared down the gravel road like they'd never been there at all.
Silence.
The lake lapped quietly against the dock as Dad and I stood there—wet, speechless, and completely, utterly confused.